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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696198">Paris, 13ième Arondissement - Influenza</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenblumen/pseuds/sternenblumen'>sternenblumen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Feb-Whump-Ary 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Musketeers (2014)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:53:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696198</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternenblumen/pseuds/sternenblumen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s flu season, and the 13ième Arrondissement is struck severely.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Feb-Whump-Ary 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643296</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Feb-Whump-Ary</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paris, 13ième Arondissement - Influenza</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written as part of Feb-whump-ary by @yuckwhump on Tumblr, this is Day 7 - Influenza. Contains very little actual influenza and lots of comfort. And worldbuilding because this is my first try writing a modern AU! So meet the guys as Parisian police officers.</p><p>I put them in the 13ième arrondissement (most known for being home to the Chinese quarter, the National Library and the Gare d’Austerlitz) because they served under Louis XIII. If the whole thing gives off a pretty strong Brooklyn Nine-Nine vibe, this might be due to the fact that it’s the police procedural setting I’m most familiar with (and I’m admittedly too lazy to do much research).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aramis looked around when he entered the bullpen. The open space was usually bustling at this time - after all, he was slightly late but only by three minutes, so he doubted Athos would give him grief for it. But today, the bullpen was strangely quiet, and he just spotted Marceau at his desk, and there was someone in the break room, looked like De Foix … The Captain’s office door was closed.</p><p>Aramis made his way over to their small office - it had its perks, being the best team and also direct reports to the squad’s lieutenant. It was actually Athos’ office, strictly speaking, but Treville had not protested when Porthos and he had moved their things to it, too. Though, with four desks in it now, it was definitely cramped …</p><p>Athos swivelled his chair around and greeted him with a raised eyebrow, so Aramis quickly raised his hands apologetically. “I know, I know, I’m late. But at least I’m here. Where the hell is everyone?”</p><p>Athos held his gaze a moment longer, then nodded and turned back to his computer. “There’s a nasty bout of the flu going around,” he said. “Half the squad is down, and even more of the uniforms.”</p><p>“Wow.” Aramis dropped into his chair, switched on the computer and set down his bag. “I didn’t even see any signs of that, must be a really bad one striking everyone down so quickly.”</p><p>“It was the weekend,” Athos pointed out mildly, “and you’ve been out of the office for most of last week.” He tapped his pen on the desk, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “Speaking of which, good job on that report. Once d’Artagnan and Porthos get here, we can get going on the follow-up.”</p><p>Aramis nodded. It had been a lot of leg work for d’Artagnan and him those last few days, but it had paid off with enough leads that they were pretty sure of the next time the bank robber group they were investigating would strike. “Not like them to be late,” he could not help but remark, throwing a worried frown towards the two empty desks. Usually, d’Artagnan was first in the office, and Porthos not long in following - Athos was impeccably punctual, of course, and the role of latecomer fell to Aramis himself more often than not.</p><p>“We’ll give them another few minutes,” Athos said as he pulled up some documents on his screen and started to read. Aramis sighed and nodded, turning towards his own screen.</p><p>He had just opened his mailbox to check for messages when someone knocked on the door and barely waited for Athos’ “Yes?” before opening it. Their Captain stuck his head in the room, measuring up its two occupants, then got to the point without much of a preamble: “Good morning. d’Artagnan just called, he’s sick. The flu.”<br/>
Aramis swore. Their youngest hated taking sick days (not that the older ones were much better at taking time off work), so it must have hit him hard to call in.</p><p>Athos nodded back at Treville. “Thanks, Captain. Keep us informed when he’ll be back.” Treville gave them a nod and a smile that looked more like a grimace - that many people off sick must be an administrative nightmare, not to mention the many cases that went unsolved - and shut the door again.</p><p>Aramis and Athos exchanged a look. “Let’s hope criminals get the flu, too,” Aramis murmured.</p><p>The lieutenant snorted. “Thankfully, they do,” he replied.</p><p>Silence descended again as they resumed reading messages and reports. It must have been ten, fifteen minutes later when the door opened again. Behind them, Porthos’ deep bass rumbled: “M’rng, guys.”</p><p>Athos and Aramis’ heads snapped up at the same time, and they shared an alarmed look before turning around towards the door. For a moment, they just stared at the large man.</p><p>Then Athos sighed and pinched his nose, getting up and grabbing his jacket. “Get him home,” he told Aramis. “I’ll tell Treville. The rate this is going, he might just close down the precinct.”</p><p>Aramis nodded. “Will do. I’ll text you later.”</p>
<hr/><p>“‘M not sick.”</p><p>“So you’ve said, yes,” Aramis replied blandly while he was steering his car through mid-morning traffic. Rush hour was over but was he just imagining that there were fewer cars on the roads today?</p><p>“You don’t believe me.”</p><p>“So I’ve said, yes.”</p><p>He threw a sidelong glance at his friend in the passenger seat. Porthos had his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. With a sigh, Aramis shook his head as he returned his attention to the road and reached out to flick down the shade so the tiny mirror on it was revealed.</p><p>“Porthos, I know your skin colour. And it’s usually not <i>grey</i>.”</p><p>A low growl was the only answer. Aramis resisted the urge to sigh again, and the rest of the drive was spent in silence.</p><p>Porthos’ protestations as to his well-being would have been more believable if he hadn’t swayed as he got out of the car, holding onto the door for a moment. Aramis quickly rounded the car and ducked beneath his arm, wrapping his own around his friend’s waist. “Yes, I see that you’re perfectly well,” he murmured as he steered him towards the lift.</p><p>Porthos did lean on him but nevertheless objected again: “I don’ see you clucking like a mother hen over the pup, an’ you said he’s sick, too.”</p><p>“That’s because he had the good sense to call in and not get to the precinct looking like death personified.”</p><p>“Always so dramatic.” He could practically hear the eye roll in Porthos’ voice.</p><p>He could also hear that Porthos’ usual deep rumble was having a definite raspy quality, so he just smiled and didn’t reply, just guided him carefully to lean against the back of the lift cabin while he turned around and pressed the button for Porthos’ floor.</p><p>And by the time they had made it inside the front door of his flat, Porthos was well and truly past any pretences. It was not a long walk from the lift but it was long enough that he had started sweating, though he did not seem to feel warm - on the contrary, there was a subtle shiver running through him at least once. He collapsed gratefully onto his couch when Aramis deposited him there. “Alrigh’, alrigh’,” he finally mumbled. “Might be a bit under the weather after all.”</p><p>Aramis stood, hands on his hips, lips pursed. “Glad you’re admitting it,” he said flatly. “Why did you come in? I know you can be stubborn about things like this but this was especially mule-headed.”</p><p>Porthos shook his head. “Wanted to be there for d’Artagnan’s big moment. He was so excited on Friday,” he explained wearily. “He said you’ve had some good leads, finally enough for a solid hypothesis. So, y’know, first time him takin’ the primary and bein’ the one to do the presentation, that’s a big deal.”</p><p>Aramis suppressed a sigh and nodded. “That’s very sweet of you,” he said and ignored the glare Porthos gave him for being called ‘sweet’. “But not worth your health, and even our youngster saw the wisdom in that.”</p><p>Porthos grumbled something into his beard, then suddenly groaned and let his head fall into his hands. Alarmed, Aramis crouched down beside him, a hand on his shoulder. “What is it? Headache? Dizzy?” he asked.</p><p>Porthos shook his head without lifting it. “No - well, yes, that too,” he finally said. “Just, we met on Friday to watch the game. Must have been me to get him sick when you’ve both been out of the office so much and you didn’t get sick. Aw, hell.”</p><p>Aramis could not suppress a small smile and ran his fingers through the dark curls. “Stop that,” he chided. “He might have picked it up anywhere else and any other time, and even if he did get it from you, it’s not your fault.”</p><p>Porthos made a small, miserable sound that tugged at Aramis’ heartstrings but nodded and raised his head again, wiping his hand over his face. “Guess I’ll just go lay down and try to sleep it off,” he said. “You should go back to Athos.”</p><p>“In a minute,” Aramis replied as he rose with him, keeping a hand on Porthos’ arm though he steadied almost immediately. Together, they made their way to the bedroom, and though Porthos undressed by himself quickly and without help, he did not protest when Aramis all but tucked him in. Aramis felt his forehead - yep, there was a fever developing, no doubt about that - and left the room. A trip to the kitchen and bathroom later, he was back with a bowl he sat down next to the bed - just in case -, a glass of water and two aspirin he placed on the bedside table. “Alright, I’ll be back later to check on you,” he said while running his hand again through Porthos’ hair. “Sleep well and feel better soon, okay?”</p><p>Porthos gave him a sleepy smile and made a shooing motion. “I’ll be fine. Go help Athos not bein’ overrun by the criminal elements who don’ have the flu,” he said.</p><p>Aramis laughed, patted his head and left. Outside, he sighed and shrugged on his jacket. Time to go and be a police officer then, instead of playing nurse around here.</p>
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